


Barebacking the Devil

by ashes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Dark Comedy, Dick of Death, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-01
Updated: 2011-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 20:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes/pseuds/ashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam realizes that he's had one weapon all along -- a weapon that very well could bring down Lucifer, if only he can get close enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barebacking the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> **This is complete and utter crack.** Set somewhere in Season 5, and ignores a little bit of universe rules. Maybe slightly dark? Unbeta’d. Enter at your own risk. :D Blame and commentary at the end.

Sam wakes up in a cold sweat, apparently shouting so loudly that in the bed beside him Dean goes, "Dude, what the fuck? It's like 4 AM."  
  
"I think I know how to defeat the devil." He sits up too fast, lightheaded for a second before he catches his bearings, his breath.  
  
Dean leans up on one elbow; Sam can't see his face in the dark, but he can imagine the raised eyebrow from the incredulity in his voice. "Defeat the devil. What, for good? I think after the Colt -- "  
  
"Trust me. I mean, I don't know -- maybe it won't work forever..." Sam rubs his face and yawns. "But I gotta try." He crosses the motel room in the dark and stubs his toe before finding his shoes. Dean's bedding rustles as he turns on the bedside light; Sam winces and squints.  
  
"Sam, you can't just -- seriously,  _what the fuck_ ? You can't just leave without giving me a clue what's going on!"  
  
Looking back over his shoulder, Sam swallows. "Look, if it doesn't work I don't want you to have to know. I'll be back by noon, alright?" The silence grows more awkward, and Sam sighs. "Dean, I need you to trust me. I need to try."  
  
With a grunt Dean leans over and turns off the light. "Noon. If you're not back, I'm sending Cas after you."  
  
Gratefully Sam leaves before Dean changes his mind. 

***

He hitches a ride from the gas station where he got the pills to the bus stop, catches the bus that takes him to the other end of town -- Sam walks out to the warehouses and factories, finds one that looks suitably abandoned. He doesn't know how this is going to go down, has no idea if he's even going to survive. But it's an (unpleasant) idea.  
  
He lights a candle, chants some Latin, and summons Lucifer by name -- possibly the worst idea he has ever hand, but it's not like he has the devil's phone number. "Alright, you son of a bitch, come get me."  
  
The warehouse remains quiet at first, dark and chilly. The concrete under Sam's ass is cold, and just when he's beginning to think that he didn't do the ritual correctly Lucifer's chuckle permeates the night. The temperature seems to drop, and Sam's hands are shaking.   
  
Lucifer emerges from the shadows in that body, the first signs of decay evident on his flesh. His lips are demon blood red (and Sam knows the color well), and the face is twisted in a sneer. "This was unexpected, Sammy -- we're not ready for Michigan for quite a while yet."  
  
"What?" Sam pushes himself to his feet, looking Lucifer in the eyes. It's like staring into a black hole, and he practically feels himself falling apart. He keeps it together.  
  
"Never mind. Have you had a change of heart, then? Ready to let me make it all better?"  
  
Sam shakes his head, licks his lips. "I have demands. I recognize that this war is useless, that I'm going to say yes -- Michigan, I gather?" Lucifer quirks an eyebrow, and Sam continues, "Knowing the inevitable, I have demands."  
  
"Demands of the devil? Oh, Sammy, you are so   _brazen_ . But I'm nothing if not fair." Lucifer shrugs as he crosses over to some wooden boxes; he leans back and crosses is arms over his chest. "What are your terms?"  
  
"Leave me and Dean alone until -- until Michigan, whenever that is. I want Dean left alone afterwards. No killing my brother out of spite."  
  
Lucifer chuckles again as he looks off into the corner of the warehouse. "I can do my best not to kill him out of  _spite_ , but I can't promise what condition he'll be in when Michael and I are done with him. You either."  
  
"I understand that," Sam says, though he'd rather tell Lucifer to die in a fire. He says pretty much that, in different words: "And I want to fuck you."  
  
He's a little bit pleased with himself; Lucifer actually does a double take, though he seems to recover quickly enough. "I'm sorry, you want to what?"  
  
"Fuck you." Sam draws his shoulder square, his back straight as he stalks toward the Devil -- hopes he looks consumed with lust rather than totally out of his element. A handful of porn watched out of curiosity does not exactly prepare one for fucking the devil. "Look, this is the end times and all that, and I'm going to Hell -- we're not avoiding it. There's no reason I shouldn't have some fun on the way out. Defiling a fallen angel sounds like the biggest middle finger I could possibly give Heaven."  
  
Lucifer's face twists into a sharp lopsided smirk, and he pushes himself up off the boxes. " You never cease to shock me. I could be anything, you know." Lucifer is in his personal space, the scent of death and decay just pungent enough to make Sam's stomach turn. He breathes the words into his ear. "That girlfriend of yours. Or, any of them for that matter. Or maybe -- " He leans back, his grin downright sinful. "Your brother, maybe."  
  
Sam shoves him back into the boxes, undoes the belt of his jeans with his other hand. "You. And if you want to wear me to the end times, you're going to turn the fuck around."  
  
"Ah, there's the anger!" Lucifer turns and leans over the box, and fuck the submission of the whole thing sends a little jolt to Sam's cock, though Sam tells himself that's just the pill kicking in. Lucifer looks over his shoulder as Sam is fumbling with his zipper. "I don't suppose you'll be gentle on me. It's this body's first time."  
  
The devil barks in laughter when Sam shoves his face down against the coarse wood and yanks off his vessel's pants.

***

Sam barely makes it by the noon deadline. He's drunk -- holy shit is he drunk, so drunk that when Dean gives him that  _look_  he actually leans against the door frame and laughs so hard that his ribs ache. God, every part him aches. His cock is raw and his muscles are on fire after the marathon fucking and the concrete and the long walk back. He giggles a little bit at Dean and says, "I need a bath."  
  
"Are you drunk?" Dean rushes over, recoils. "Jesus, you smell like sex and regret! What did you do? Did you kill the devil?"  
  
"I fucking hope so," Sam says, laughing quietly as Dean limps them over to the bathroom, leans against the toilet with his cheek on the cool lid while Dean runs the bath. "Gotta wait. Sometimes it takes a while."  
  
Dean runs his fingers through the water. The faucet sounds like a waterfall crashing directly into Sam's brain, and he can tell his buzz is wearing fast. "What did you do?"  
  
"A ritual?"  
  
"What ritual, Sam?"  
  
Sam throws his hands in the air, then laughs at them. "A well-tested one. Now  _trust me_ , and get out, I don't want you to watch me bathe. I'm not five anymore."  
  
Dean does, though he leaves the door open.

***

Sam thinks he must have dozed off in the bath; the water is is getting cold. It reminds him of the concrete on his bare ass, which makes him cringe and kind of gives him their weird half boner that he hopes doesn't last. He can hear Dean and Castiel talking -- outside the bathroom door, where Dean was probably standing guard.  
  
"Say that again. Slower, Cas, because I think I must have hallucinated."  
  
"We got the drop on him." Castiel is giving him that head tilt, staring right at him, and Sam feels like he must have some Angelic Sign over his head: Just Fucked the Devil, and Kind of Liked It. ( _What_ , he says to himself,  _it had been a while. May has well have enjoyed stopping the Apocalypse_ .) Castiel looks back to Dean. "He was considerably weakened, somehow, and we managed to trap him back the cage."  
  
The hotel room is silent for a long time after that, and as the water gets colder Sam realizes what this means.  
  
His cock really is cursed.

**Author's Note:**

> WITH LOVE to SorcererHuntress and Ratiocinational. ♥ While watching Season 4 last night, this idea happened. I can’t even remember WHY. But it was magical and beautiful and I could not not have this in the world.
> 
> Also, there was discussion that he couldn't use a condom, because with a condom it doesn't count -- hence the title. :D Sadly, I couldn't fit that anywhere in the fic. (Can you just imagine Lucifer primly asking, "Did you bring protection? I don't know where you've been!" ...Shit, you know, that might've worked.)
> 
> I almost don't want to post it, lol, but on the other hand I'm actually just a little bit pleased with how it turned out.


End file.
